


A Series of Birthdays

by rainandcoffee



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Canon-compliant mostly, M/M, Mortal Daniel, Vampire Daniel, Vampires, i mean as much as i ever comply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainandcoffee/pseuds/rainandcoffee
Summary: A short series of vignettes about birthdays between Daniel and Armand over the years.
Relationships: Armand/Daniel Molloy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	A Series of Birthdays

**Author's Note:**

> This was written several years ago but I found it and figured I'd post it here for prosperity or whatever. Fair warning: contains swear words.

**1974**

Daniel left the airport counter and went to find a seat near the gate. His flight to England left in two hours, and it was already after dark, so it was a risky move. But the vampire hadn’t showed himself for over a week and Daniel, feeling bold, felt that flying out sooner rather than waiting until daytime was the smart move. 

He barely had time to pull out a beat-up paperback he’d been reading when someone sat beside him. “London?” a familiar voice asked. Daniel started, though really, he should have expected it. “What’s in London?” 

“A lot of things. You’ve been to London!” Daniel did not actually know if Armand had, but he assumed he must have at some point. “What do you want?” 

Instead of answering, Armand pulled the ticket from between the pages of the book and examined it. Daniel sighed. “You know, this game doesn’t work if you cheat.” 

“How it is cheating when I already know your destination?” Armand asked. It was a fair point.

Daniel yanked the ticket back and shoved it into his leather satchel. It was useless now. He couldn’t go to England, not if he didn’t want Armand to follow. Armand couldn’t kill him here in this brightly-lit, crowded airport, but he might next time he caught Daniel alone. No, he’d have to wait until morning and get on the first flight elsewhere. 

Daniel stood.

“Where are you going?” Armand asked, a light curve to his lips. 

_As if I’m going to tell you._ Daniel rolled his eyes. “To the bar.” 

Armand joined him on a barstool moments later, and asked him to explain why so many mortals drank when they traveled. “Is it fear of the unnatural state of air travel? How do planes stay up in the air?” 

Daniel drank his first and ordered another. “Ask a mechanic,” he said. “There are plenty outside on the runway.” 

There was a newspaper abandoned on the bar and Daniel pulled it over to check the sports page. It was folded to the horoscopes. “Hey, what’s your sign?” he asked. 

The vampire frowned, golden eyes flicking to the page. “You believe in astrology?” 

Daniel shrugged and lifted the paper. “Sure. I mean, here’s mine.” He pretended to read: “You will encounter an enemy at the airport. Do not waste money on airfare, as your creepy vampire stalker will show up and render the ticket useless.” He set the paper down, grinning. “See? Spot on.” 

Armand rolled his eyes. The gesture was so normal—so human—it took Daniel aback. “Money is not an object in this game.” He tossed a few hundred dollar bills down in front of Daniel and then walked away. 

“You’re a Scorpio, yeah? Or an Aries?” Daniel called after him. Armand did not answer. 

**1977**

“Come on, you must have one,” Daniel slurred, poking the vampire in the chest with a finger. It was his birthday. He was twenty-four and Armand had insisted on buying him a pile of gifts so high it filled their small apartment, worse than the time he’d ordered everything Ron Popeil sold in triplicate. And then they’d gone out to party Armand had gently persuaded some of the artists they’d been hanging out with to throw, where they now sat getting drunk. Well, Daniel was getting drunk. “When is it?” 

“Do you know how old I am?” 

“No,” Daniel said pointedly. “How old?” 

Armand ignored him. “What does my mortal birthday matter now, Daniel? Look, they’ve brought you a cake.” 

They had, in fact, produced a cake from somewhere in the loft and it was covered in candles. “Nice distraction, but you’re going to tell me. That’s what I want for my birthday.” 

But then the others were on him, tugging him over to blow out candles and make a wish. When he returned to Armand’s side an hour later, a little drunker and full of sugar, Armand insisted he explain the candle and wish thing—he called it a ritual—and Daniel forgot to bother him about the date of the vampire’s birth.

**1983**

Daniel tossed the package on the sofa beside Armand, who sat watching the television on mute. He’d cut his hair short and had dressed in a suit that matched the one he’d laid out for Daniel to wear. Daniel had obliged but only because it was his fucking birthday. 

He came around the sofa and sat on the chair beside Armand, who had not acknowledged the wrapped box.

“Well?” he asked.

“You didn’t need to get me anything.” 

“No shit? Well, I’ll file that away for next year, Boss. Just open it.” 

Armand lifted the box. He was one of those assholes who unwrapped gifts slowly and neatly, so as not to tear the paper. It was maddening. But finally, he reached the pair of soft, tan leather gloves. He ran a pale finger over them, caressing the fabric. “They’re perfect. Thank you.”

Daniel shrugged as if it were nothing but in truth, he’d agonized over the perfect gift for a month. What do you get the vampire who has everything?

“So what is it now? 600? 800? How many years have you tortured this planet with your continued existence?” 

“It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, with you.” 

Daniel scoffed, a familiar frustration vibrating against the edges of his skull. “For now. But how long will that last? A blink of an eye to a creature like you.” 

“Daniel, please, not tonight.” 

“Right. God forbid I bring up my fragile mortality on your seven hundredth birthday!” He stood, too aggitated to remain seated. He was sober and tired—he’d been up half the day getting the gloves and having them wrapped. He needed coffee, a smoke, and a gallon of whiskey. All exhausting mortal needs. “You can end this tonight, you know. Turn me or kill me, and suffer no more.” 

“I would suffer greatly to do either,” Armand said, but his words were flat, rote. They’d had this fight so many times, it practically ran on autopilot. 

“Yeah, right. I’m going out.” 

Armand did not protest. Daniel slammed the door for good measure. 

**1986**

The Villa was cold despite the warm night air surrounding it. Daniel walked on tip-toe, metaphorically speaking, so as not to let Armand hear him leave. He didn’t want to fight and that’s all they’d been doing for weeks. Armand was in the living room near the door and Daniel sighed, knowing he couldn’t get out without some kind of comment. 

_Fuck._

“Hey,” he said. 

Armand did not move. He did not speak. He might as well have been made of marble like the ridiculous art piece in the corner. 

“I’m heading to Miami,” he said, because leaving it alone felt worse somehow. 

Armand still did not react. Daniel left, a relieved breathe escaping him once the door was shut. It was so fucked up that it had come to this, the two of them existing like people who loathed each other for no reason Daniel could even fathom. He stopped halfway to the boat, remembering the date.

It didn’t matter. Armand had never cared for his birthday. And yet… Daniel didn’t want things to be like this between them. He didn’t know what had gotten under Armand’s skin but he was sick of it. It was his birthday and they were going to celebrate and be together and be happy for once. 

He went back inside. Armand was still on the sofa, staring at the fireplace. Daniel hit the button to close the shutter that would smother the fire out.

“Daniel,” Armand said in a warning tone.

“Come on, Boss,” he said. He grabbed Armand’s blue peacoat and threw it at him. “We’re going into Miami and we’re going to take our aggression on some helpless, evil people, and then we’re going to celebrate all of your godforsaken years walking this earth.”

“How romantic.” Dry, but not entirely vicious. He put on his coat. That was good enough for Daniel, who held the door open and locked it behind them. 

“You know me. A goddamn hopeless romantic.” Armand’s lips curved into a slight smile and Daniel felt some of the tension ease out of him. Maybe this is what they needed. A night out together, reveling in being monsters. But then it was naive to think one night of murder and mayhem could solve all of their problems. 

**2007**

“Goddamn you, pick up,” Daniel said. He paced back and forth on the porch. He could see Marius inside, reading a newspaper in Portuguese. Only Marius read the paper anymore. Daniel was convinced it was only him and a handful of other wealthy old men keeping the damn thing afloat. 

The phone stopped ringing and it took Daniel a second to realize that someone had answered and simply hadn’t said anything. 

“Hello to you, too,” Daniel said, finally sitting on the bench to keep from pacing. “Happy fucking birthday.” 

“How sweet.” That goddamn voice. It made the marrow in his bones vibrate in recognition. He wanted to reach through the phone and grab Armand and smack him in the head and kiss him on the lips and ask why they were always so far apart. 

Instead, he said, “Did you get the package I sent?” 

A pause. Then, “The pen?” 

“Yes, the pen! I wasn’t sure I had the right address.”

“Why did you send a pen? Do you believe Louis’ stories that I’m curating a museum here in New York rather than a home?”

Daniel had spoken only briefly to Louis in the past couple of years and frowned at the phone. It was an inside joke, he realized, one between Louis and Armand. One Daniel was not a part of. He felt his fingers tighten on the phone, threatening to crush it. 

He swallowed blood and bile and a vicious comment. “It’s a birthday gift.” Silence. “It’s fucking cool, okay? It can write under water. And really write, not like that terrible astronaut pen we bought in the 80s.” 

“I see.” There was a hint of something there, curiosity or amusement.

“I don’t know. You’re fucking hard to shop for.” 

“You needn’t get me gifts, Daniel.” 

Daniel sighed, blowing air into the receiver. “You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” 

“I’ve been told.” 

“Just try the damn pen.” He hung up, half-hoping it wouldn’t work so Armand might call to complain about it. 

**2014**

They sat on the Spanish Steps. Tourists still lingered, none of them paying attention to the two immortals who sat huddled together in the cold night air. Daniel wore a wool peacoat Armand had bought for him the night before in Florence. They sat close enough that their bodies touched, watching people come and go, letting the hunger build as Daniel liked to do. 

Later, Armand would call someone who longed for death to them or they’d find a despicable villain to dispatch and quench their thirst. But for now, Daniel liked the soft buzz in his veins and the way cigarettes could quiet the urge for a moment or two before the bloodlust roared back to life.

“Before I forget.” Daniel withdrew a small black jewelry box and passed it to Armand. “Happy birthday.” 

“You didn’t need to get me anything, beloved,” Armand said, but he lifted the lid and unfolded the paper. Inside, sat a sleek looking black rectangle that resembled a windowless car. Armand picked it up and gave Daniel a questioning look. He grinned, satisfied the surprise hadn’t been ruined. Armand had no idea.

“It’s a key fob. For a Tesla.” 

“I see,” he said, running his thumb over the smooth key fob, a distinct note of pleasure in his voice. “And where is this car?” 

“New York.” Daniel smirked. “It’ll be waiting for us at the airport.” 

“Excellent. And how will you be getting home?” 

Daniel elbowed Armand in the ribs. Armand pushed him back. Daniel snatched the key fob and dangled it over Armand’s head. “You’re driving me. Or I’m keeping the car.”

“Fine,” Armand said, with faux indignation. Daniel handed the key remote back and Armand put it gently back into the box, before tucking it away in a pocket. Daniel leaned over and kissed him. A group of college kids in Ohio State sweatshirts whistled and hooted. Armand yelled at them to piss off in Italian. They laughed and moved along. 

Daniel nipped Armand’s lip until blood beaded out and then he kissed him more deeply. Armand wound fingers through Daniel’s blond hair, pulling him closer. 

Then Armand eased away gently, pressing his palm to Daniel’s cheek. He stood, reaching down to pull Daniel up. “Come. Let’s hunt.” 

“Anything you want. It’s your day.” 

“Anything?” 

“Within reason,” Daniel amended, putting his arm over Armand’s shoulder as they walked down the steps to find dinner in Rome.


End file.
